Over Now
by marymin
Summary: Post-summertime record. Kenjirou is dead and the trio have to deal with that. Written for 8/15.


_"There was an accident at the school. Part of the building collapsed, and your father's car is in the parking lot. I'm sorry. We can't find his body."_

At least time they know why.

Ayano told them what to expect; that first time, that first August she'd gone along with Kenjirou to do the paperwork for her mother, his shoulders hunched and eyes red-rimmed. She'd thought back then that he was unnaturally quiet, that the sounds of the pen tip scratching the paper should not have been the loudest sound in the room. She hadn't known then how his mind was rewiring itself, how the new occupant in his head was making himself at home and her father's thoughts were settling painfully around the snake's coils, like stones in a landslide, like blood in the dirt.

She'd told the three of them about the forms, told them what was required. It would be fair, if the universe was fair, if only she could come along and help them handle all the technicalities. But a dead woman's signature is worth nothing but red flags and questions they can't answer, so she stays home in their apartment instead, sending along nothing but her advice and encouragement.

Her words had always given them strength, so when they crowd one-two-three into the little shoebox office, elbows knocking and feet shuffling, all three of them somehow manage not to cry.

The official glances first at Kido, possibly because the other two are both looking at her with hope in their eyes, waiting for her to speak for them all. Instead, her narrowed eyes scan official flyers and notices pinned to the walls, retaining no meaning from the black-printed words.

For her, this is her second father lost, her second time grappling with being his child but-not-really, her second time waiting to be dismissed by the adults who make decisions for those who can't. Though she is no longer a child, this room makes her feel like one, and she waits just a second too long because the official is sighing and shuffling papers, and looking between the boys instead.

Kano's eyes slide sideways while Seto blinks back like a deer in headlights, realizing too-late that the forms are being slid his way, a black ballpoint pen dropped on top of the stack. Kido answered the call about Ayaka and Kano saw Ayano die so it's only fair, and Seto believes the world is fair so he takes the pen in hesitant fingers. A weight leaves Kido's shoulders and Kano sighs, mouth twisting to the side in an incongruous smirk that he can't hold for long at all.

There's something weird and upside-down about signing on Kenjirou's death, acknowledging he's gone without admitting they know why, agreeing to take responsibility for a funeral despite any knowledge of how to go about it, even if they've had more funerals in the past years than they care to remember. It's strange too, that Ayano is waiting for them at home, that their big sister isn't any bigger than they are any more, that there are no more adults left, no more cell phone numbers on post-it notes 'just in case' slipped into their jacket pockets as they tell their father _we'll be fine, no really, living on our own won't be hard at all._

Living without the safety net of grownups is _weird_, and they're not sure how to feel, and it gets no less weird when Seto hands the forms back over, this time covered in his lopsided scrawl, shakier than ever with nerves, and the official shuffles his papers again and says "It seems he's left you a house."

The three of them exchange glances again, and this time Kido finds it in her to speak, even if her voice catches a little in her throat. "What do you mean?"

"He specified he wanted to leave everything to his children— here, these are your names, aren't they?"

The paper he plucks from the stack and lays in front of them is a bad quality photocopy but it's easy to make out the three names written down, obviously updated in the past two years, obviously updated since after the snake had begun to take control of him. And despite that, their three names are there on the paper plain as day.

Kido stares. Seto reaches for the page to squint at it in something like confusion. It's Kano who's non-reaction sticks out, his eyes following the paper even as his face is unreadable. It's Kano who had to live for years with the knowledge that his own father's body intended to kill them, but it's all of them who are struck by the knowledge that their father's mind at least wanted them to live on.

The paper is placed back on the top of the desk.

"Thank you," Kido's voice is gruff. "We need to make some decisions first, but thank you."

As if her voice has broken a spell, the next ten minutes devolve into the official explaining forms and handing them to her one by one, to bring back before the end of the week, and then they're shuttled out the office door just in time for his next appointment. The door slams behind them. Kido stares at the stack of forms.

"Ayano's waiting," Kano reminds her, as much as he reminds himself, as much as he reminds all of them. Ayano's waiting, their father loved them, and summer is ending soon. It's time to go home, to 107 and later to the brick house ,and really it doesn't matter which, as long as Ayano is waiting and days keep passing. They'll be adults before they know it.


End file.
